


You Two Are Dorks (But So Am I)

by SushiOwl



Series: Pigments and Pentacles [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I need an apprentice," he said as he lined up his ink cups. He wanted someone to make everything ready for him so he could focus on just the tattoos.</p><p>"You should make Stiles do it," Carina said, not lifting her eyes from the Plants vs Zombies design she was working on. "Since he doesn't contribute."</p><p>"Hey," Stiles said, turning away from his studying to look at her. "I'm doing very important work here. So nyeh." He stuck out his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Two Are Dorks (But So Am I)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't beta read at all. :D
> 
> I'm posting this from my phone. Let me know if their are glaring formatting errors.

Carina was the instrument of the devil. She had to be. Why else would she buy Monster Hunter for Peter as a(n unneeded) thank you gift for welcoming her as pack? She obviously wanted to consume his soul. He'd thought nothing could be as addictive as Pokémon, but he was wrong. There was something endlessly satisfying about hitting mobsters with a giant dinosaur femur.

Carina had offered to play with Peter, probably to show off her high level character and all the great gear she had. Stiles had watched over his shoulder for a while, trying to backseat game, so Peter had bought him his own copy to get him to focus on something other than Peter’s style.

And so, in the four months that followed, Peter, Stiles and Carina played together when they weren't doing other things, like drawing tattoos and studying magic. It wasn't uncommon to be in the middle of a monster battle when a customer walked in.

The doorbell jingled, and Peter looked up from the game to find a woman probably in her sixties, her blonde hair silver in places. "How can I help you?" he asked as his character died a dramatic death in his hands. He shut his 3DS and gave the potential client all of his attention as Stiles whined behind him that he was dying and Carina was laughing.

The woman smiled in amusement, setting her purse on the counter and starting to dig through it. "Recently, I had breast reconstruction surgery after having a double mastectomy." She pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Breast cancer?" Peter asked carefully. 

The woman nodded and unfolded the paper, revealing different kinds of flowers and classic American sparrows. "I wanted to get the bird on one side and the flowers on the other."

Peter took the piece of paper, nodding as he did so. "Okay, well I'll need to look at your chest for placement." He paused as a thought occurred to him, looking up at the client. "Are you comfortable with me doing it, or would you prefer a woman?"

From behind him, Carina called out, "I can do it if you want me to. But Peter is amazing and so much better at flowers." 

That made Peter smile.

"I don't mind if you do it," the client said, looking at Peter.

Peter swiveled on his stool and led her over to his inking station. He drew the curtain he rarely ever used around them to give them some privacy. The woman took off her shirt and bra, revealing her chest, and Peter took in his canvas. She didn't have nipples, just long scars across each breast.

"How long ago did you have the reconstruction surgery?" he asked, grabbing a translucent piece of sketch paper.

"Almost six months ago," she replied, watching him.

"Alright. Well, I can tell you that tattooing scars can be tricky..."

Peter went on to explain the process of covering up scars. The client, whose name was Sandra, listened intently, nodding as he spoke, and by the end of it she still wanted the tattoos. He laid the paper against her chest and mapped out the area he would use. After that, he told her to give him a couple days to draw something up. She left with a smile.

* * *

"I'm not making the flowers pink, Stiles," Peter said, not looking up from his sketch, which he was tracing with a pen.

"But pink is for breast cancer awareness," Stiles pressed on.

"I'm positive that she is _aware_ of breast cancer," Peter replied, and Stiles made a frustrated noise, dropping his forehead on Peter’s shoulder. "She wants blue and purple bell flowers, and that is what she will get." He reached up and patted Stiles’s head without looking away from his drawing. He was nearly done. “Are you bored or something?” he asked Stiles.

“Yeeees,” Stiles complained, straightening up and huffing. "I can't concentrate on anything. Entertain me." He pawed at Peter’s arm.

"Entertain yourself," Peter said with a snort, turning his head to fake bite at Stiles’s hand.

Stiles squeaked and retreated, so Peter went back to his work. For a little while, he was able to concentrate, then suddenly he was bombarded with noise as the radio, which had been at a respectable volume, was dialed up to ten. Peter turned, wide-eyed, to find Stiles grinning like a cat.

"They say we are what we are, but we don't have to be," Stiles started to sing, loudly and completely off key. "I'm bad behavior, but I do it in the best way. I'll be the watcher of the eternal flame. I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams." Stiles started to dance as he sang out a loud 'ooooooh!' His dancing was as charming as it was bad. "I am the sand at the bottom of the hourglass. Ooooooh." He pointed at Peter. "I try to picture me without you, but I can't. 'Cause we could be immortals!"

Peter couldn’t help his smiling as Stiles went on, bouncing around the shop. Eventually Carina joined in, and they sang together as loudly as possible. Peter just watched, shaking his head. To be honest, he would have sang along if he'd known the words.

* * *

When Sandra arrived the next day, she looked eager and excited to see what Peter had drawn up. When he showed her, she let out a little gasp and covered her mouth. "They're so beautiful," she said, almost in a whisper.

Peter grinned, pleased with himself. He always felt his ego inflate a little when a client liked his designs. He was a glutton for praise.

"Give me just a minute to set up, and I'll be right with you," he told her, heading to his station to sanitize everything and set up. "I need an apprentice," he said as he lined up his ink cups. He wanted someone to make everything ready for him so he could focus on just the tattoos.

"You should make Stiles do it," Carina said, not lifting her eyes from the Plants vs Zombies design she was working on. "Since he doesn't contribute."

"Hey," Stiles said, turning away from his studying to look at her. "I'm doing very important work here. So nyeh." He stuck out his tongue.

Peter rolled his eyes and thought about telling them to act their age, but that was like admitting he was old. That wasn't going to happen.

He finished setting up his station, before he made the stencils of the tattoo. He led his client to the chair and was about to draw the curtain, but Sandra held out her hand.

"You can leave it," she said, and Peter dropped his hand from the curtain. She smiled almost apologetically at him. "Sorry. I just get a bit claustrophobic. It reminds me of an MRI." Her brows bowed up.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," Peter was quick to say.

Her smile changed. "I doubt I'll be comfortable, but I won't be anxious." And she laughed.

Peter smiled at her in return. After she removed her shirt and bra, be positioned the stencils. After she had a look in the mirror, she okayed the position, and Peter got to work. He wasn't sure if he should ask her about her diagnosis or her battle through it, so he kept quiet.

About an hour later, Peter switched to his shading needles and Sandra stopped wincing. She let her head lay on the rest and unclenched her thin fingers from the chair. He worked in silence for a while, completing one side, before she told him she needed a break for a few minutes. He got her water bottle from her purse for her, so she didn't have to move.

"Do you have any tattoos?" she asked after a few gulps. He lifted his sleeve to show her the fox and wolf on his shoulder. "That's beautiful."

"Carina did it," Peter said, nodding toward his packmate. 

She looked up and smiled. "He did a piece on me too."

"I have three tattoos by him," Stiles said, swiveling around in his chair.

"You're liked a tattooed family," Sandra said, smiling hard enough that the bridge of her nose crinkled. "That's so nice."

Peter glanced between Carina and Stiles and thought that, yeah, it was nice. He was so much happier with people to love.

After Peter finished Sandra's piece, she looked tired but happy to be done. She got up and went to the mirror to look. Her brows bowed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wet. Hurriedly, Peter grabbed a box of tissues and brought them to her.

"Thank you," she said in a watery voice, taking several tissues and mopping her eyes. "For everything." She gave him a smile, taking his hand and squeezing it. She probably would have hugged him if her chest weren't an open wound.

"Sure," he said, nodding and squeezing her fingers back.

After he wrapped her chest, she got dressed again and dropped a kiss on Peter’s cheek as she headed out. Peter watched her go, his heart light and a smile on his face. He had never done a tattoo that meant so much to a client. Then a wave of emotion hit him, and he sniffed, blinking stinging eyes.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, drawing closer.

"Yes," Peter tried to assure him, but it came out as a choked noise. Stiles was on him in a fraction of a second, embracing him tightly and kissing his face. Peter laughed and patted Stiles’s arm.

"Is it Hug The Alpha time?" Carina asked, before she practically crashed into them, hugging Peter snugly around the waist and scent marking him by rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

Peter chuckled as he rubbed his cheek into her hair, marking her in return, before he nuzzled Stiles’s chin. He felt content and loved, and if a few tears escaped, well that was okay.

* * *

That night, when they were leaving the shop, Carina lingered as Peter locked up. "Were you serious about wanting an apprentice?" she asked.

Peter looked at her. "Not really. Why? Do you have someone in mind?" he asked, putting his arm around Stiles. His mate leaned into him, focusing on his phone.

"My friend, Dan," she told him, nodding. "He's an artist that wants to get into tattooing."

Peter thought about it a moment. He’d never really had the urge to teach someone, but he could probably get into it. “Does he know about werewolves?” he asked, because that was definitely a deciding factor.

Carina nodded. “He’s not one himself, but he’s grown up in the know.”

“Hm. Alright, have him come by sometime with his portfolio,” Peter said, ruffling Stiles’s hair and earning a noise of complaint. Stiles didn’t move away though, just smoothed his hair down with his hand without looking up from his phone.

“Okay,” Carina replied, grinning. “I’ll tell him. Night, guys!” She turned and walked off as they replied in kind.

Peter and Stiles turned the opposite direction, and Peter’s thoughts turned to what he was going to do when they got home. He was definitely going to take a shower, a nice hot one that would relax his muscles. Then he was going to eat the rest of his strawberries to cure his late night munchies. They were close to going bad anyway.

Stiles leaned over, finally looking away from his phone. “I want to sit on your dick,” he said.

Well, fuck showers and strawberries!

Once they were inside the apartment, they had their hands on each other, mouths locked. They made their uncoordinated way to the bedroom, knocking into the door frame and then venturing in the dark to the bed. Peter grabbed Stiles under the thighs and tossed him onto the mattress, earning a laugh as Stiles bounced.

“Take off your clothes,” Peter growled to him, turning on the bedside lamp. He grinned like the wolf he was as Stiles flailed a bit, removing his clothes as fast as he could. Peter pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it and turning to the nightstand to dig the lube from the drawer. He tossed it to Stiles, who gave him a wide-eyed, blown pupil look. “Show me.”

Stiles licked his lips, before he turned over, pushing himself up on his knees with his chest against the bed, cock hanging half hard between his thighs. Peter watched as he fumbled with the lube underneath himself, squeezing the thick liquid onto his fingers. Then he reached up between his legs and pressed two fingers inside his hole, groaning hard.

Peter could have panted, that was so hot. He undid his belt as he kicked off his shoes, before he pushed down his pants. Going commando was perfect for this situation. He watched as Stiles kept opening himself up, slick fingers wet a wet squishing noise that shouldn't have been so attractive.

Finally Stiles seemed to have enough, because he scissored his fingers before pulling them out. He pushed himself up and turned around on his knees. "I'm ready," he said, pointing to the pillows. 

"Yes, dear," Peter replied with a sharp grin, before he climbed onto the bed and sat against the headboard, his back cushioned by the pillows. He took hold of the base of his dick, holding it up straight.

Stiles crawled on top of him, giving him a sloppy kiss as he sank down on his dick. They moaned into each other's mouths, and Stiles gripped Peter’s shoulders as Peter dug his fingertips into Stiles’s hips.

They sank into a familiar rhythm, Stiles rocking in Peter's lap and clenching him with his wet heat. It was enough for Peter’s eyes to roll back in his head. He wanted to have this forever. It was kind of funny, really; he didn't used to believe in happy endings.

Stiles was losing his coordination, his hips rolling unevenly from one moment to the next. "Fuck, _fuck_!" he whimpered, holding onto Peter’s shoulders tightly. "Come with me," he murmured, leaning in to mouth at Peter’s jaw. "I want your load deep inside me."

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. He came with a stuttered noise, shooting into his mate. His eyelids fluttered as Stiles cried out, coming on Peter’s belly. Then Stiles dropped on top of him with a grunt, a boneless rag doll.

As they got control of their breathing, Peter ran his fingers up and down Stiles’s spine. Stiles didn’t move even when his breathing was even and calm. Peter smiled with a snort. "Not moving, I take it?"

"Nope, can't," Stiles told him with a nuzzle to the side of Peter’s neck. "I'm dead."

"Was it a good death at least?" Peter asked with a playful pinch on Stiles’s butt, which was still full of Peter’s softening cock.

"10/10, would recommend," Stiles said, not bothered by Peter’s actions at all.

Peter resigned himself to being a pillow for his mate. There were worse fates.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I wrote something. And I have more to write for next time. As you may have noticed, I have given up deadlines. Writing at my leisure is so much less stress on my part. I want this to be fun forever. <3
> 
> Next up: This is Dan.


End file.
